4PG006 - Tamara Johnson

The hose becomes a liminal character on a hot summer day in the suburbs. Children spray rainbows over sunned cars, tears drop from flower garden petals, to the lips of just ran across the lawn and drink with thumbed over stream at screaming soaked to a pail to wash the threshold of home. Unnoticed, everyday but unusual, natural but unnatural, between sink and stream, between gardener and garden. It is playful, reliable, nourishing. Tamara Johnson points to the hose as the umbilical cord to a house’s womb; the lawn a site of transition into nature.